


The Worst Lecture of Them All

by FallenInTheWetTypeWater



Category: Crusade
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Humour, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-22 14:31:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21303647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenInTheWetTypeWater/pseuds/FallenInTheWetTypeWater
Summary: Instead of searching the galaxy in the Excalibur for the cure to the Drakh plague, the crew have been called back to as close to Earth as they dare for a 'short' seminar on the plague itself.Brought over from FF.net. Originally Published: 02-24-10, Updated: 02-24-10
Kudos: 1





	The Worst Lecture of Them All

**Author's Note:**

> In the impromptu "Study Time", one of the science teachers was helping the current year 12s with something to do with chemistry (or maybe it was physics) and the Drakh Plague attacked. Well it made sense in my mind.

Gideon sat in the lecture barely listening. He never fully listened, not even to Galen, but this time he was even less aware. It was something to do with chemistry, chemical bonds and the like somehow relating to the Drakh Plague back on Earth. All in all very droll – even to most people who actually understood these things.

So instead of listening with undivided attention like Doctor Chambers who was actually interested in this kind of thing, the Captain was making the most of his notepad. Looking up from his drawings of many various and increasingly imaginative things that could happen to the lecturer, he glanced around at the other members of his lucky team who had, more or less, drawn the short straw to be here.

Dureena, two seats down was cleaning her nails with her knife and by the narrowing of her eyes was seriously debating throwing it. Next to her, Max Eilerson was making no effort at all to hide his boredom; He was slumped down in his chair, legs outstretched, arms behind his head and yawning widely. Trace was fast asleep on Matheson's shoulder who was twitching nervously, and Galen was playing with fire – literally. Wrapped in his leather cloak, the Technomage was stretched out over four or five seats bouncing a ball of flame back and forth from hand to hand.

'Mathew', he inquired from his reclined position up the back, 'Haven't we hard all of this before?'

'Mmh.' Gideon replied, putting the finishing touches on a "Spiked Ball of Doom" in his collection of drawings. 'Why?'

'Oh, just curious.' Galen replied before returning to his fire.

'Lieutenant,' Gideon whispered down the line, 'How much longer?' He practically whined.

Matheson pushed aside the slumbering form of the pilot Tracy who was now drooling on his uniform so he could extract his watch. 'Another thirty minutes Captain.' _Then we can get out of here, _he added silently. _And not a moment too soon._


End file.
